


we kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot

by GabbyD



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, Background Relationships, Character Study, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Regret, Self-Hatred, Slavery, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 07:51:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12185937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GabbyD/pseuds/GabbyD
Summary: The life of Captain Yondu Udonta, for yonduweek.Day One: Slavery.





	1. what is and what will never be

**Author's Note:**

> For the first day of the Yondu Week, "Slavery". I will post one chapter per day following the prompts about Yondu and his life, each own different of the other.
> 
> You can find the link for Yondu Week: [here](https://whosyouryondaddy.tumblr.com/post/163772832205/yonduweek-yondus-the-coolest-we-all-can-agree)
> 
> Enjoy!

Sometimes - in the little free time he’s allowed, waiting in a cage for the next day to start, for the next order - he wonders. 

He wonders about what happened and what could’ve been; did his parents give him up for their safety, or was it just for gold? Was it their only option? Did they cry at night over their decision, over their lost son, or was it just one less mouth to feed, hands cold as they traded him over in exchange for a little money. 

Did they care?

And if the Kree hadn’t come, would they’ve stayed happy? Would he have grown up with hugs and warm affection instead of whips and cold cruel apathy? He liked to imagine that his mother would play with him and that his father would teach him about the world, trying to imagine what they look like as his hazy memory only recalls a blue skin just like his and big, bright red fins.

Would they love him?

He wonders about who he is and who he would be; he doesn’t know if he ever really even had a name, anything to be called besides the numbers he was given - that _they_ call him, indifferent, as if he was just another one. Not a child nor a person, just a weapon with an order to follow. Did his parents pick him a name - did they fight over the options, staying up at night wondering what would best fit their unborn child? Was it the name of a warrior, or of a dear relative? Was it a name they loved?

Or did they sell him without even naming him first, as to not get attached.

If he had stayed, what would it be like? Would he grow up to be a warrior, a hunter, or would he be a farmer? Would he one day have a family of his own? Someone to trust and love by his side, and a child that would never know suffering like this?

Who would he be then?

He doesn’t know anything about where he came from and the people there - _his people_. He knows his family was religious, he remembers them praying, but he can’t remember how or to who. Was it common, would he be like that too?

It’s hard for him to imagine ever believing in something bigger - in someone bigger, - while chained and having his soul tortured out of him. He knows there’s no one there, that no one gives a shit. But he tries anyway. He picks up a few pieces of the other slaves’ stories and cultures, tries to place it together with faded memories and imagine a future that never came to be. Of a different life altogether.

It’s hard to imagine being loved, too, but that thought he buries deep inside of him as he drowns himself in what-ifs.

But it never works, does it? The reality always too harsh to leave him alone.

He doesn’t even remember his own language besides a few sounds now foreign to him in a far away memory that he’s not even sure is real - _soft, mournful clicks echo on his mind together with a broken cry -_ so how could he expect anything else. Everything he has was given to him by his masters, by the Kree, from the words on his mouth to the ration and dirty rags.

All he remembers - all he has - is pain.

He’s nobody.

He’s nothing.

With no family or home, no culture to call his own, nothing but the longing to belong and to be loved.

As he grows up longing turns into bitterness as he learns that it doesn’t matter. Damn sentiments don’t matter. His parents never cared and never would, and he hopes they died for what they’ve done to him. Not accepting that hard truth has only ever made him weak. The moment they decided their son was worth nothing more than a few coins to them was the moment they condemned him. The moment they erased his identity and turned him into cargo.

But he won’t let that be his fate forever.

The Kree master he was assigned to tells him about his next battle, not looking at him at any point as they do nor bothering telling him who he’s going against, and throws him the weapon he’s supposed to use. The usual speech is given with an emotionless voice, telling him exactly what would happen if he disobeyed or lost, information already carved into his brain so deeply that his every step is given with it in mind. The orders clear.

They tell him to fight.

And so he does.

He fights and fights and fights. Wounds and battles and victims getting lost in number, their importance watered down by the need to survive. He fights for it, fights for the chance of one day being free, for the chance of getting revenge.

And that day is coming, he can feel it in his bones.

So he fights.


	2. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Two: A Pirate’s Life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to one of the few prompts that isn't suffering. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

A day in Yondu’s life usually goes like this:

He wakes up, likely hungover and sore from the night before, with most of his clothes missing and a first mate attached to him to the hip like a damn tentacled creature, and gets up to start his day.

Yondu will then eat his damn breakfast, Kraglin at his side complaining about being rudely awoken by being kicked out of the bed as if he had any rights to whine, and goes to sit on his Captain chair where he spends most of his time at discussing whatever important business there is.

Sometimes he will nap, sometimes he will kill a guy or two or five.

Overall it’s all very boring.

When he’s finally hungry again he’ll eat whatever disgusting grub their cook made and hope it ain’t breathing still as he downs it with booze.

He has two usual breaks every day where he sneaks into whatever corner they can find with Kraglin for some alone time and a warm mouth, and then he’s back at the chair. They plan heists, discuss future jobs and who will get a visit from them next.

Hours later and he will be done with it all, declare it an early night - is that even the correct term if it isn’t night, and he does it everyday? - and goes to get drunk with his most trusted mates. He will drink, he will laugh, play poker and maybe even break into a fight. Then he and Kraglin will find each other and fall into bed together and it starts all over again.

Some days it will go differently, when they have a job to do and shit to steal.

Those days Yondu will team up his most competent men together with the most replaceable to deal in contraband or break somewhere to steal something shiny only to hold it hostage until they’re paid more than agreed before, and after the gig they’ll party in Contraxia until the third sun goes up and they’re kicked out of the bot-brothel - laughing, shitfaced and satisfied.

But in the end, deep down, it’s all the same.

And he loves every single second of it. He’s a Ravager, captain of his own fleet and owner of his own destiny.

He can do whatever he wants.

So what, pray and tell, Yondu is doing sitting next to a crying Terran while could could very much be doing something else entirely - his first mate, for example, or would it be the other way today? - he doesn’t know.

Yondu looks at the kid, the snotty red-head human boy who’s terrified of them all and won’t let go of his music crying for his momma and to go home for cycles now, and sighs.

He can’t give the kid to Ego, not after he found out what he did to the others, not after _he_ failed them all. Thinking he was doin’ them some good and getting paid on the side when he was none better than his own parents who sold him. But he also can’t give him back to Terra where Ego knows where to find him. The little one was his responsibility now, his screw-up to fix.

It’s not sentimentalism, he tells himself. It’s an honor thing.

Yondu gives him his best smile.

“Hey boy, wanna go on a space adventure?”


	3. The Chain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Three: Bonds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And back at it.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy my prompt for day three! <3

Yondu had many bonds through all his life.

Even when he denied it, even when he felt completely alone and cursed it for making him soft, there were people there for him.

The earliest bonds he remembers was with some of the older slaves who helped raise him when he was still too young to be of much use - _scarred and shaking hands that held him in place, not caring but also not unkind, singing in a language he couldn’t understand yet craved all the same_ \- only to be all killed as a punishment when the time came and he failed at his first task.

He knows now, logically, that it wasn’t his fault: they were old and out of worth, the Kree merely used it as an excuse and made an use out of their deaths. It wasn’t his fault.

_But it was, but it was._

There’s Stakar, who gave him life and purpose and _family_ , who broke his chains, and with him comes Aleta, Martinex and the others. People that never looked down at him even when he barely knew what to do with himself - people who turned numbers into a name and gave Yondu a sense of being.

Stakar who would look at him and see someone of worth, not a tool not a weapon. Aleta who encouraged his mischief and building personality instead of punishing him for him, regardless of her no-bullshit personality. Martinex who fought with him for the Captain’s approval, seeing him as a rival not his inferior - seeing Yondu as a _friend_.

Charlie who would spar with him when things were too much, Kruger who always stopped to hear his stories, sweet Mainframe who was kind.

His family.

The family he betrayed.

_Broke their hearts, spat on everything they believed in. Greedy, stupid, foolish._

His first Ravager crew, from which today only few are left, like Tulk and Horuz who had his back from the moment Stakar smiled at Yondu and gave him his ship naming him Captain. Oblo and his team, always following his orders promptly with respect in their eyes when they look at Yondu.

_All dead, dead, dead. Sacrifices in the battle, thrown out of the airlock when he went soft._

Then comes Kraglin Obfonteri, the scraggly little rat that goes from recruit to first mate in a blink and was quick to gain Yondu’s trust. Was quick to join him in his bed too. The person who Yondu trusted the most in his life.

The person who started the mutiny against him.

_It wasn’t love - couldn’t be, because Ravagers don’t say that word, even when they mean it (and he did, oh, he meant it) - but it was something and it was broken. Shattered._

_All because Yondu had gone soft, soft, soft, and Kraglin believed in him no more._

_Betrayed his trust just like Yondu himself betrayed Stakar’s long before._

Like Rocket and the naive little Twig - one who reminded him so much of himself, who he felt the need to save from himself before it was too late and he lost all of them like he did, and the other who restored his faith, so quick to trust and love. So _young_.

_"You can fool yourself and everyone else, but you can't fool me. I know who you are."_

_You're me._

The rest of his boy’s new family.

The woman who hated Yondu but who Quill fell in love with - who looked at the boy the same way he looked at her, in awe at his strength - and the warrior who never once blinked about his Captain and Yondu’s relationship.

_A father knows another._

The meek girl he met all those years ago, always so eager to touch him during his meetings with Ego and always looking so guilty after, and the fearless one who shot him in the head and made him defenseless for a chance.

_And who was Yondu to blame her?_

And Peter.

 _Petey_.

His boy, his _son_. The only mistake, out countless others, he never regretted. The best screw-up Yondu has ever made.

Who he raised as his own, training Peter to be a Ravager and _survive_ , making sure he never knew suffering like Yondu did. Making so many mistakes on the way - _never letting Peter know the truth, always so scared of being seen as soft_ \- yet still even then having Peter grow up to be someone to be proud of.

A Guardian of the Galaxy, saviour of them all.

He doesn’t deserve Peter - _he didn’t deserve any of them, really, he never did_ \- but damn if he wasn’t lucky for having that boy. Yondu looks at him, truly looks at him, and smiles one last time.

Bonds make you soft, they do, but oh they give you strength too.

_And with that strength he gives his goodbye._


	4. A Life for a Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Four: Settling Past Scores.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "But this is late as fuck, it's been ages since Yondu Week!" you scream. 
> 
> Yeah, well.......................... yeah. But here it is. Enjoy.

From the moment Yondu picked the boy up from Earth, Peter had saved his life. Neither were aware of it then, and it was nothing Yondu would ever admit, but he did. His mere presence stopping and distracting Yondu from the crippling self-loathing over being exiled from the others, giving him a _meaning_.

He didn’t have time to stop and think, to do something about the guilt rotting deep inside of him and destroying everything inside with it, because he had to keep the kid safe. Yondu’s life turned into just raising Peter, protecting him both from Ego and his own crew, trying his best and doing so many mistakes on the way, all that together with his usual job as a Ravager captain. Never a moment without something to do.

Never a moment alone with his own thoughts.

He couldn’t think about shooting himself, because he had to teach Peter how to shoot instead.

He couldn’t think about the fact he’d never laugh with Stakar and the others again, too busy muffling his own laughter at something the boy did - a squabble with Kraglin, a prank on a fresh meat, or dancing like a doofus to one of his little songs.

He couldn’t think of—

_tiny, tiny skulls hoarded like trash, thrown away by their own flesh and blood. He can recognize each kid, each little being he carried in his ship and talked with, gave false hope, delivering them all to Ego at the end._

_Dooming them all._

_His fault, his fault, all his fault._

— when Peter rests his small head on his shoulder, too tired to put up a fight at being carried, humming a song under his breath so sleepily it barely had a tune. So close the Captain could hear his faint breathing.

Yondu couldn’t think of any of that, not with Peter there. With his boy.

_His_ boy, not Ego’s. Never Ego’s.

Maybe not his by right, but Ravagers take what they want and Peter was his boy to raise. His boy to protect, to teach how to pilot and to slap around when being dumb. To love. His greatest weakness and biggest pride.

His son.

And now it’s Yondu’s turn to save the boy instead.

He doesn’t know what awaits him; there will be no Colors for him, no Horns of Freedom to be heard nor his fellow Ravagers, it won’t be whatever afterlife Centaurians believe in, and maybe that’s what he deserves for all he has done. But in the end, it doesn’t matter. None of it matters; not the fear nor the uncertainty, not the loneliness.

He refuses to close his eyes even as it all burns, wanting to keep them locked on Peter to the very end. Wanting the last thing he sees to be the face of a loved one - to be Peter’s, his Petey.

All that matters is that his son will live.

And for Yondu that’s more than enough. A life for a life, after all, is no bad deal to make.


	5. please come home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Five: Presents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D-d-d-double update.

Peter’s music is important to him, easily enough the most important thing in the boy’s life. A gift from his mama before she passed, or so he told him, filled with songs full of meanings to him. He loved it like he loved the woman herself.

It wasn’t long after the boy joined his ship that he realized the two couldn’t be separated.

The boy listened to it at all times; to pass time when bored, to cheer up when moody, to give himself courage or to dance along happily. He listened to it to sleep, to pilot, to fight. And Yondu doesn’t doubt that sometimes he didn’t even need the machine to hear the tunes, all archived inside his strange Terran mind and playing at all times.

His music often gives life to the Eclector’s cold walls.

Or did. Peter’s been gone for a while now.

Away with his little Guardians saving the galaxy — and stealing from it too, from what he’s heard. Yondu’s never been prouder in his life. But he knows he’ll be back. He always comes back.

They just need patience, is all.

So when, in the middle of that little illegal corner shop he and Kraglin ended up in, he finds the Terran apparatus he would soon learn was named Zune, well… he knew it was perfect.

And cheap, too, with Yondu’s very own five-fingers discount. Yondu can feel his grin getting bigger and bigger as the shopper explains the object, teaching the ravager how to use and about the songs in it.

_Peter will love it_ , he thinks. Even more songs to drive them all mad with.

“Check this little thing out!” He shows off the object to his first mate with pride once they’re back on ship. “Got Terran music on it. I reckon Quill will like it yeah, when we get him back and all. After he’s punished for givin’ us the slip. Whatcha think?”

It doesn’t get the reaction he expected, and for a second Yondu thinks Kraglin will go back at his old jealous self from youth. But instead his face just falls, full of damn _sentiment_.

Kraglin recovers from it quickly, of course. No ravager would be caught being soft.

“Cap’n… I don’t think Petey—”

“Boy will come back, Kraggles,” Yondu interrupts uncaringly, dismissive of all that nonsense. “‘Course he will. Don’t worry ‘bout that. And when he do, this lil’ thing will be waiting fer him.”

“But, sir—”

A whistle, and silence falls on the room.

“If I say the boy will come back then tha’ what he’s gonna do. Ya’ll see. He owe us that much, dontcha forget it.” He whistles the arrow back to his belt, but Kraglin keeps his hands up still. Smart boy. “He knows his place.”

_Home._

“Now come listen to this thing with me, I gotta see if it’s any good.”

Kraglin sighs, but nods anyway. “Yes, boss.”

They listen to all the songs together, all three hundred of them; some they nod along, some they comment on, but most they stay in silence. Kraglin likes the loud ones, Yondu the ones with meaning.

He only notices his first mate was gone after the sixth play of the one he liked the most, long after, too lost in it to see the other leave— with Cat Stevens playing on repeat.


	6. oh, mr blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Six: Things Left Unsaid.

Yondu didn’t get to say sorry to Stakar and the rest of them, the chance to explain himself. Wasted all his opportunities with foolish pride; not wanting to admit his mistakes, too deep into it to try and back out. Not wanting to be seen as _weak_.

He thought himself too far gone to be forgiven— _why would he be?_ — so he fought back instead like a damn fool.

He didn’t get to tell Kraglin what he really felt, or even a goodbye. _It could’ve been love, they could’ve had it all, if he only had allowed himself to feel._ And the worst is, they won’t even get to see each other in the stars. Their only chance thrown away.

Yondu won’t get to see any of them. Not Stakar nor Aleta, no Martinex, Charlie, Kruger or Mainframe. He won’t see Tulk and Horuz, he won’t see Oblo and the loyal few.

No goodbye, no apologies or ‘thank you’ for any of them.

He always kept his heart and true feelings at an arm’s length and now, at his very last moments, Yondu regrets nothing more in this world.

So he holds Peter’s face in his hands - it used to be so tiny, still chubby with baby fat, and now Yondu can feel the beard tickle his skin under the shield; his boy is all grown now - and makes sure to tell him everything he never could.

Nothing left unsaid between them.

The last thing he hears as the world goes black is Peter’s voice screaming his name.


	7. The Ravagers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Seven: AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A double update, and the last chapter. Hope you guys enjoyed it <3

At the end of his bar, loud and cheerful in a way only good booze could make someone, are the Ravagers.

With mean smiles and matching leathers, they never fail to show up asking for drinks and filling the bar with their people. With time he starts to even recognize most of them by sight, knows who to try to chat up and who to not, who’s more likely to start a fight.

Laughter echoes through the place as their leader, Yondu Udonta, finishes another one of his stories and throws his arm around Kraglin’s shoulders, his trusted second-in-command. An image so common now around here.

He’s pretty sure the gang made his bar their spot.

He’s also pretty sure they kidnapped the kid they always bring along with them.

The boy himself, who couldn’t be older than ten, told him that. Told anyone who’d listen, really, tales of a dark night outside a hospital and threats of cannibalism. The first time they brought him along he protested - a filthy roadside bar was no place for a kid, even if it was  _ his _ filthy roadside bar - but they never offered Peter any alcohol and one of the members always stayed sober with the boy, babysitting him. So he allowed it.

The kid was a charmer, quick to warm-up to people and always found in someone else’s table making friends and telling stories.

When Peter told him about it at first he got worried, considered calling the police even, but just one look is enough to know the kiddo is Yondu’s, through and through, no matter how much he denies it.

They don’t look alike, oh no - one is a cute and freckled redhead boy from Missouri and the other a hard-ass mohawk-wearing biker with a deep southern accent and a slight lisp, neither having anything that resemble the other.

But he can see it in how they act, in how they look at the other. He can see it in the little tells Peter has that came from the gang leader, and the way Yondu will always get up in seconds if he senses Peter is in trouble.

They’re father and son, alright. There’s no doubt in that. So he doesn’t worry about it.

What he does worry about is the kid’s newfound pickpocketing ability.

“Udonta, please, can you tell Peter to stop stealing from the other clients?”

“Now, now, John,” the biker answers with a fake diplomatic tone, calling him by the wrong name by the fifth time just today, “whatcha doin’ calling my boy a thief? I thought we was friends. Yer breakin’ my heart here.”

“I think his name is Mikey, boss,” Kraglin offers unhelpfully.

_ No, it isn’t. _

“Well then, Mac, let’s ask the boy if ya insist. Petey!” The boy comes running, his heavy pockets waving around noisily. “Was you thievin’ around?”

“You told me to —”

“I didn’t ask for specifics, did I, boy? Now ain’t the time for excuses. Did you steal from this nice man’s clients?”

Peter looks at both of them, before working on his best puppy eyes. “No?”

“See, the boy says he didn’t and I trust ‘im. You gotta find better sources, Jamey, instead of pointing fingers at one of mine. I won’ let it slide next time, ya hear? Be real careful.”

“He’s clearly lying!” he protests.

“I know, I know. Bit pathetic if ya ask me,” Yondu agrees dismissive before turning to Peter again. “Ya really gotta get better at lyin’, boy. I won’t cover yer ass next time.”

The kid rolls his eyes, huffing. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Hey, don’t give me tha’ attitude or I’ll think again ‘bout not eating ya. I still think yer gonna taste like chicken. Now go get me more money from those idiots’ pockets, ya gotta practice.” The biker chuckles after the boy leaves again. “Kids, right?”

“You’re too soft on him, boss,” Kraglin, who’s been watching until now, says. “He got caught.”

“He’s still little enough to not cause us trouble for it, Krags. Cute as a button, that one - ain’t nobody gonna give him any trouble, and if they do he can get out of it with them kiddie charm, or we’ll step in. Now go make sure the boy does it right.”

A sigh. “Sure, boss.”

“You know I’m still here right?” he asks, though he’s already feeling too tired for all this. “I heard that.”

Both Yondu and Kraglin look at him as if they knew but simply didn’t care enough, and the leader gives a big filthy smile that’s all teeth, his threat clear. “Yeah? And why is tha’?”

“Dontcha got a bar to look after, Jameson?”

He shakes his head in defeat, the fight definitely not worth it, leaving the two alone and going back to his usual spot. When the next patron comes to complain he’ll just tell them to feel free to argue with the bikers themselves, because he’s out. 

From behind the bar he observes as Peter charms another customer to lose her guard around him before slipping her watch into his pockets. Cute as a button indeed, he agrees.

Well, at least they always pay well.

He can ignore the rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to talk to me on tumblr at remuslupinsmiled~
> 
> Please don't forget to leave kudos and comments as they feed the author's soul! <3
> 
> (PS: Many small details were inspired and/or created by Write_like_an_American who is my favorite gotg author and a big inspiration to me in this fandom! <3)


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